5 Times Charles Tried to Kiss Erik and 1 Time Erik
by sdrawkcabemdaer5
Summary: X-Men: First Class, Erik/Charles. Exactly what it says in the title.


1. The first time was almost by accident.

It happened mere minutes after Charles had pulled Erik from the ocean, after they had clung to each other like life depended on it.

Charles had never believed in things like fate or destiny. He was an academic man, a scientist; he believed in quantifiable facts, in observable phenomena. But as soon as he had felt Erik's mind, so strong and determined even as he was trying to accomplish the impossible, Charles had felt something stir within him. A recognition, of sorts, though that made no logical sense. He hadn't even thought twice before jumping into the frigid ocean.

The Coast Guard crew had given them blankets and stowed them away in a cabin below deck, out of the bitter night air. Erik was alright, much of his body protected from the water by a wetsuit. But Charles was freezing. He shed as many of the soggy outer layers as he could without stripping down completely in front of strangers, and settled for wrapping the blanket tight about himself and waiting for the shivers to subside.

He was watching Erik, with his eyes and his mind, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions radiating off of both of them. Charles felt relieved, and a little ecstatic, though he still wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the aftereffects of the adrenaline. Erik seemed disappointed, angry at himself, but also relieved as well. Charles doubted he would have been satisfied, letting himself die in a failed mission.

Charles was so absorbed in trying to sort through Erik's jumbled thoughts that he was surprised when Erik suddenly leaned towards him, well into his personal space. Charles was startled, but acted on instinct, parting his lips slightly and letting his eyes drift shut. He couldn't say _why_ that would be his first instinct to a stranger invading his space, but it happened before he could question himself.

He waited, feeling a momentary surge of heat as Erik's body drew closer, his breath hot on Charles's cheek. But then as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. Charles opened his eyes, feeling dazed.

"You had some seaweed in your hair," Erik said, flicking it aside. He didn't seem to have noticed anything unusual in Charles's reaction. Either that or he was ignoring it, maybe attributing it to shock. Charles wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He had no reason to expect anything from this virtual stranger, and yet when he had thought they were about to kiss he had felt an elation he had never experienced before.

"Oh, right, thank you," Charles said, pulling the blanket tight to ward off renewed shivers. If only it could ease the tumult in his mind.

2. The second time it happened, they were both more than a little drunk.

Charles and Erik were out on their mission to comb the country and recruit fellow mutants for the CIA. That day alone they had driven across several states and met with two potentials, without any success. One had slammed a door in their faces and threatened to call the cops, the other had nearly set them on fire with her powers. All in all, not their best day.

They had retreated to the safety of the nearest hotel bar, soothing themselves with some quality brandy and a game of cards (the bar, unsurprisingly, did not have a chess set).

Erik lit a cigarette and held it between two long, slender fingers. Charles watched the smoke as he blew it out in a thin line between barely parted lips. It was mesmerizing, like the swift, graceful motion of blood cells under a microscope. He couldn't look away.

"Another drink?" Erik asked, not even waiting for Charles's answer before sauntering to the bar to refill their glasses. Charles watched him go, and had to forcefully reel in his thoughts, before the entire bar heard them. He always had a harder time keeping his mind contained when he drank, and Erik looking so bloody inviting wasn't helping his control.

Erik returned, placing the fresh glasses on the table, and Charles grabbed it eagerly gulping most of the fine liquor down in one swallow. Erik watched and merely chuckled, blissfully unaware of the effect that low, raspy sound had on Charles. Charles scanned his thoughts, just to make sure he wasn't doing it on purpose.

Charles had always been pretty good at holding his liquor, university having given him almost as much practice in drinking as in course work. But that night he could feel the wooziness come over him quickly, surpassing the pleasant haze of the slightly inebriated and heading straight towards fall-down drunk. He probably should have slowed down, but every time Erik brought his glass to his mouth or blew another tendril of smoke between his lips Charles had to take a fortifying gulp to keep himself from lunging across the table. And Erik did those things quite frequently.

Erik ended up half-carrying, half-dragging Charles up to his room, laughing every time Charles stumbled over his own feet. Erik wasn't nearly as drunk, and Charles found this distinctly unfair. If he was going to make an ass of himself, Erik should have at least had the courtesy to join him.

Back in the privacy of his own room Charles suddenly felt daring. Erik's arm was still around him, snug and supporting, and it felt nice. He'd like both of those arms around him, in fact, and maybe a few less layers of clothing between them.

He turned to face Erik, planning to kiss him boldly, in an open invitation for more. It sounded like a very smooth plan, and Charles could feel Erik's mind, relaxed and warm and glowing with the slight haze of alcohol. That should help.

He leaned in, intending to look seductive, but it was ruined somewhat when he lost his balance, clear missing Erik's face and planting himself in the crook of his neck instead. Erik laughed, loud and boisterous. Charles could feel the vibrations ricocheting through his entire body, making him feel slightly dizzy. That was definitely not a laugh that said he found the moment, or Charles, even the least bit sexy.

Erik deposited Charles on the bed and filled a glass of water for him, before turning to retreat to his own room. Charles had rarely felt more miserable in his life, and the hangover hadn't even begun yet.

3. The third time it happened, circumstances got in the way.

Charles and Erik were playing their nightly game of chess in one of the quiet parlors of the mansion. Their conversation was quiet and light, some of the weight of the world laid aside for a few brief moments.

Erik leaned over the board, considering his next move and rolling one of the discarded pieces between his fingers. Charles had a hard time focusing on the game, instead enjoying Erik's expression as he concentrated, the firm line of his lips and the small crease in his brow.

Erik made his move, but remained hovering over the board, still lost in thought. Charles leaned forward to move one of his pawns, barely even paying attention to what he was doing. Their faces were only a few inches apart, and Charles couldn't help but lick his lips, imagining what it would be like to press them against Erik's, how easy it would be from this position.

He sent out a tiny tendril of his thoughts, just the vaguest hint of a suggestion. He wanted to test Erik, see how he would react. Erik looked up, meeting Charles's eye, his expression a mixture of surprise and confusion. But Charles couldn't sense any trace of suspicion or repulsion, only an open curiosity. Charles leaned closer, watching Erik's face change from confusion to understanding. He didn't pull away.

"Charles, Hank needs you in the lab, some question about biology, or geology, or some –ology." Raven burst into the room without knocking, talking a mile a minute. She froze when she saw the scene before her. Both men had instantly pulled back, retreating to the safety of their armchairs. But Raven wasn't fooled. She smirked like she had just discovered a secret.

"I'll, uh, tell him you're busy?" she asked, a sly smile crossing her face.

Charles cleared his throat and stood, desperately willing himself not to blush. He was a grown man, after all. "No, no, I'll come now, it's…it's fine."

He left the room without a backward glance, not even daring to touch Erik's mind.

4. The fourth time it happened, Erik got in the way.

After the night of the near-miss, Charles was sure Erik understood his intentions perfectly. There was no mistaking that for an accident or a drunken blunder. Both his thoughts and his actions had been perfectly clear.

He expected things to move along smoothly after that. With the misunderstandings out of the way, nothing was left to stop them. He hadn't counted on Erik's reluctance.

Charles tried again the next time he found himself alone with Erik, in his study going over the latest intel on Shaw. Charles was seated behind the big mahogany desk and Erik leaned over his shoulder, skimming the documents. Charles turned his head, finding Erik's lips tantalizingly close to his own.

This time he didn't hesitate, didn't bother with subtlety. There was no more time for patience. He leaned in, intent on capturing Erik's mouth and exploring it fully.

Erik turned towards Charles just as he was leaning in, and Charles took this as encouragement. But just as they were mere centimeters away, when he could already feel Erik's breath on his lips, Erik stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. He pulled himself away, looking down at Charles with a mixed expression of regret and apology.

"I'm sorry," Erik said, already moving further out of reach. Charles was dumbstruck, too confused to say a word in response. He tried to reach out to Erik's mind, but it was an undecipherable swirl of contrasting emotions. He could feel desire and affection warring with doubt and resolve. But overlaying it all seemed to be fear. A fear of what, Charles couldn't tell, the thoughts were moving too fast, like a hurricane of emotion. He pulled his mind away with a gasp, as if struggling his way out of a physical storm.

The look in Erik's eyes was not unkind, but it was firm and resolute. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, turning and leaving the room before Charles could even find the words to respond.

5. The fifth time it happened, Charles thought it would be the last.

Charles was trying to convince Erik to move the satellite dish, to extend his powers further than he had dared before. Charles had delved into his mind to help him, to find a positive memory to fuel his power, something other than blind rage. What he had found was so bittersweet that he couldn't help the tear that fell from his eyes.

Erik had cried too, as if he had forgotten that he had once been a normal boy with a loving family and happy memories. That broke Charles's heart even more than Erik's blinding pain.

Charles had respectfully withdrawn from his mind after that shared moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't still feel Erik, the sense of pride and joy and accomplishment when the giant dish turned so easily at his command. He could feel the swell of emotions in Erik, bright emotions that he hadn't dared to feel in years. Charles felt it all, echoing his own feelings as he watched his friend smile truly for perhaps the first time in their acquaintance.

Charles saw something change in Erik's face as he reassured Erik of all the goodness he had seen inside of him. Erik was thoughtful, considering these words, considering himself, but he was also considering Charles. The telepath could tell just from his soft gaze, without touching his thoughts. It was almost like he was seeing Charles for the first time, not as a powerful ally, not even as his friend and confidant, but as something more. The fear Charles had felt before was still there, along with the doubts, but they were secondary, a pale shadow behind the overwhelming surge of affection.

Charles had felt the weight of that gaze like a magnetic pull, as if Erik's powers were calling him closer. They were mere inches apart, leaning against that railing, the laughter and smiles slowly dropping from their faces. Charles made to move in closer, tilting his head ever so slightly, lining up their mouths just right. This was it, it was finally going to happen, and it felt so_ right._ He leaned closer and then-

"Hey, the president's about to make his address!" Moira called, the first floor window banging open. Other voices and noises escaped from within, shattering the quiet moment.

Charles pulled away first, patting Erik on the shoulder, back to friendly companions. Erik hesitated a moment, stock still, watching Charles. Charles could feel his confusion and regret, but there was nothing he could do. The moment was gone. Now there were other things to think about, things of global importance. Even Charles knew where their priorities had to lie.

When he heard the president's speech, he knew everything had changed as of that moment. Tomorrow they would have to face Shaw. Whatever happened, he knew that things could never be quite the same.

1. When it finally happens, it's the last time.

Charles feels the bullet enter his back, a hot burst of pain unlike anything he could have ever imagined. He falls to the sand with a scream he barely even hears. Maybe the noise is only in his head, a deafening tidal wave of agony.

He feels Erik holding him almost immediately, pulling him onto his lap. Erik's arms are around him, right where he'd always wanted them to be, but not like this, never like this. Erik's face is a mask of rage that slips into despair when Charles has to tell him what he already knows: "You did this."

Charles is prepared for a lot of things: apologies, accusations, promises. What he isn't prepared for is the sudden soft brush of Erik's lips against his, contrasting with the cool touch of metal against his cheek where Erik's helmet comes between them like a barricade. He doesn't take it off, even then.

It's nothing like Charles had imagined. He had thought kissing Erik would feel right and vital and inspiring. Instead it just feels like goodbye. That more than anything makes the tears fall from Charles's eyes.

It's the first time, and the last, and Charles knows it even before Erik stands to make his declaration, to leave him behind.


End file.
